Opposite
by giggling-at-crime-scenes
Summary: The story of how Sherlock Holmes and Molly Hooper came to be, told in short moments. Inspired by Opposite by Biffy Clyro. SOME VERY MILD SEASON 3 SPOILERS.


_AN: So this idea just came to me one day whilst I was listening to Opposite by Biffy Clyro, the song which gives its title to this fic. It's another Sherlolly getting together story, told in short moments. It's a stand alone, however I may expand on it at some point. I'm sorry if the ending seems a bit rushed, I've never been any good at ending stories!_

**_Some spoilers for Season 3: Nothing hugely specific, but there's mentions of events which happen in the second episode especially, so if you are completely and totally avoiding any spoilers, this may not be for you._**

**_DISCLAIMER: I own none of this except for the actual writing. The characters belong to ACD and these incarnations to the BBC. _**

* * *

"You're so lonely, Molly" John said, looking up from the mug in his hand to fix his gaze on the pathologist who was sitting in his living room. The flat was pretty bare, simple furniture, so different from the mess of Baker Street that Molly had grown used to seeing him in. He'd always seemed so happy there, so natural, and even though she'd only visited him and Sherlock a few times, she knew it was where he really belonged.

"I'm sorry?" Molly asked, wondering where John's comment had come from. She'd just popped over to see how he was doing. Her and John had become good friends in Sherlock's… _absence. _  
"You're lonely. Don't try and persuade me you're not because I know that look in your eyes. I wore that look for months before I met Sherlock. You're lonely, and you shouldn't be"  
"I don't know what you're talking about" Molly said quietly, not meeting his eye.  
"Yes you do. Molly," John said softly, placing a comforting hand over hers, "I know you loved him. We all did, and I know how much it hurts that he's not here anymore, but that's the truth of it. He's been dead for a year and he's not coming back. I think you need to come to terms with that."  
Molly sighed, her shoulders slumping as her eyes started to sting with tears. "I'm not saying you have to forget about him, but you should try to move on. Go out, meet people. Get away from that awful morgue. I know it reminds you of him. Why do you think I moved out of Baker Street? It's not healthy to hold onto hope of him coming back. You're just grasping his shadow now Molly. You need to move on"

It was times like this when Molly nearly slipped and gave the game away. It was so hard sometimes, knowing that Sherlock _was_ still alive. It was harder still for her to move on, knowing that there was a chance he would return. She hadn't heard from him for months, but she knew he was still out there. Mycroft would have contacted her if anything has happened. She couldn't move on because there was still hope. There's always hope for Molly Hooper, and that's the cruel thing.

Molly and John chatted for a while longer before Mary entered the flat. John and her had just moved in together. It was nice to see him happy again. He'd been so broken after Sherlock left. He completely dropped off the radar, no one heard from him for months and they'd all worried. Luckily, now he had Mary, he'd improved so much. It was hard, seeing everyone else get on with their lives whilst she was still spending her nights alone, waiting for a man who was supposed to be dead to return.  
"You should come along on Saturday Molly, it'll be fun. Just a few of us are meeting for drinks. My friend's brother Tom is coming along too. You two would really get along I think" Mary said, smiling fondly at Molly. The dark haired woman bit her tongue to refrain from telling Mary to stop trying to set her up. Maybe she should go; meet now people as John had suggested. Sherlock had been gone for a while and there were no signs of him returning anytime soon. And anyway, once he returned it would no doubt go back to normal; her responding to his every beck and call and him using her for whatever he needed.  
Of course there had been that conversation before the fall. _You've always mattered and I've always trusted you_. She shivered slightly at the thought of his voice.

No. She couldn't let herself hope too much. Knowing Sherlock, he'd probably only said that so she would help him.  
"Okay, I'll be there." Molly said, smiling at Mary. It was time for Molly Hooper to move on, or at least attempt to.

* * *

When Tom asked her to marry him she cried. That was the normal reaction to a proposal she was sure, but the problem was Molly was crying for all the wrong reasons. Tom was lovely; sweet and kind and caring and… dull. He was dull and she knew it. But he loved her. He wanted her and he was there. She couldn't really afford to be picky. However a part of her wished it was someone else down on one knee with a ring in his hand for her. She had to stop thinking like that. Sherlock had been gone for Two years now. Two long years.

She said yes, of course, but the ring continued to feel like a dead weight around her finger. Always there, always reminding her of her future, of the choice she had made.

* * *

"Molly" She jumped at the sound of her name, spoken in a voice she hadn't heard from more than two years. He saw his reflection in the mirror of her locker. He looked tired. Older somehow, as if he was haunted by the things he'd seen. She turned slowly to look at him, taking a shaky breath before she dared to speak.  
"Sherlock… you're back." Not a question. A statement.  
"Yes, I'm back. Moriarty's network is disabled, and according to Mycroft, London needs me." He said, eyes alight at the mention of his beloved city. He was glad to be home, she could tell  
"Have you seen anyone yet? John or…?"  
"No. I came straight here after Mycroft flew me back in. I wanted to…" He swallowed. If Molly didn't know better, she'd say he was nervous, "I wanted to see you"  
She looked up at Sherlock with a soft smile. She'd missed him so much more than he would ever know.  
"Who is he?" The detective asked and Molly looked confused for a moment before she realised he'd seen the ring.  
"His name's Tom. He's Mary's friend's brother" She said, before she realised Sherlock may not even know who Mary is. She hoped he wouldn't ask, thinking that was something John should tell Sherlock himself, after he'd finished beating the crap out of him of course.  
"Congratulations" He said, a cold edge to his voice which confused the pathologist. Before she could reply, Sherlock had turned and left. All she saw was the edge of his coat swish out of the door.

* * *

"You need to tell her Sherlock, before it's too late" John said, looking at his friend whilst sat in his old chair in 221B.  
"I don't know what you're talking about" Sherlock scoffed before flopping gracefully onto the sofa, his back to John, a clear sign he was in a foul mood.  
"Yes, Sherlock, as always you _do_ know what I'm talking about. You said it yourself you were developing feelings for Molly-"  
"Ha! Sentiment. That was a momentary lapse in the security of my mind palace John. I am NOT in love with Molly Hooper. Love is a construct of the mind due to an overexposure to dopamine and oxytocin, a defect which I am immune to" Sherlock retorted bluntly. John had known him for long enough to know when Sherlock was faking his distance from emotion. It wasn't that he didn't feel, it was that he chose not to, locking everything away inside his mind palace for fear it could compromise is work or be used against him.  
"Sherlock, you are not a machine. Please, just think about it. She's engaged for Christ's sake, and heaven knows she still has feelings for you. Just… consider it. Don't force it down next time you feel something. It's making you miserable. And that's making her miserable too" John sighed.  
"No, she's miserable because her fiancé is an insufferable buffoon with the personality of a deceased rat, and half the brains too" Sherlock growled, sitting up to glare at John who was now smirking knowingly.  
"Well, someone's sounding jealous aren't they?" John chuckled, standing up and shaking his head at his best friend, "Just think about it Sherlock, for all our sakes, okay?"

Sherlock sulked for about an hour after John had left before he did something that he rarely let happen: he gave in.

He sat on the edge of the sofa, eyes closed and fingers steepled under his chin, his mind palace slowly coming into focus. The halls were well trodden, used frequently to retrieve information for a case, aiding in his deductions. However, this time he moved past the rooms filled with critical information and took the route to the part of his palace he rarely let himself visit. This room was lighter than the rest, and not so crammed full of information triggers. The colours were pale and gentle on the eye, and Sherlock could almost smell her perfume…  
He hadn't been here since the days after the fall when he'd locked away all his sentiment deeper than it had ever been before. This room was dedicated just to Molly, and was the most secure of all of them. If Moriarty has figured out he could use John, Lestrade and Mrs Hudson against him, who was to say that someone wouldn't see the building affection for Molly and hurt her… Even the thought of it was too much. Who would have thought it? Sherlock Holmes: the cold, calculated 'Psychopath' had an entire room dedicated to a woman. A woman who believed she didn't matter, that she didn't count. Moriarty would be turning in his grave.

* * *

Molly's heart sunk when she saw Sherlock leaving the wedding. _Who leaves a wedding early? _ Mrs Hudson had said, but Molly knew the answer. It was the lonely that couldn't stand to be around so much happiness. A part of her was slightly happy when she saw Sherlock wasn't dancing with that bridesmaid, but soon she chastised herself for being so jealous and selfish. It was no business of hers who Sherlock danced with. But the look in his eyes when he walked through the crowd of dancing couples broke her heart. She was torn. She knew she should stay with Tom and dance, because that's what you do at weddings. You dance with your fiancé and let everyone see how happy you are and how much you can't wait for it to be your turn. So it was no great surprise when Molly made her excuses and quickly ran out to find Sherlock.

She eventually found him sat on a bench smoking just down a pathway, the moonlight casting a shadow across half his face. Even in the darkness she could see his hands shake. Slowly she approached and sat down next to him, a foot of space between them.  
"Sherlock…" She said softly, looking up at him but he continued to look straight ahead. "You don't have to be sad. Nothing's going to change. This is John Watson we're talking about, the most dependable man we know." Sherlock let out a shaking breath of smoke, and Molly watched it dance away through the night before disappearing completely; something that was there one moment, gone the next.  
"I choose not to feel Molly. I _chose _not to feel, and for good reason. Sentiment is a hindrance, an inconvenience. And now look at me. Now I chose to feel and all I can feel is… is empty." Sherlock groaned, flicking the ash from the end of his Cigarette. "Alone is what I have. Alone protects me… I just don't know if I want to be safe anymore"

His eyes connected with Molly's, emotion swimming through them as they shone in the night. She couldn't bring herself to look away. It was the same expression he'd worn when he came to her to ask for help all those years ago. Molly felt her own hands shake as she moved one of them to rest over Sherlock's free one which was sitting on the bench between them.  
"Sherlock I-" She began, before they heard a shout from behind them.  
"Molly?" Tom called, sounded distressed. The bench was hidden from his view by a tree so he couldn't find her. Molly felt so conflicted, not knowing what to say or what to do.  
"Go." Sherlock said with a sad smile which didn't meet his eyes.  
"But Sherlock-"  
"_Go_" He said, more forcefully this time. Molly stood hesitantly and sighed lightly.  
"I'm sorry…" She whispered before she turned to walk down the path towards Tom.

When she turned to look back over her shoulder, the bench was empty.

* * *

Molly stared at her face in the mirror. She looked old, she thought, tired. Maybe a little grey. The bags under her eyes were larger than ever, her skin looked pale and lifeless, her eyes dull. Where was she, underneath all of the baggage life had thrown on top of her? Molly Hooper was drowning.

She sighed, pulling her hair free of the yellow bow as she padded out of the bathroom, her dress from the wedding changed into Pyjamas. She heard banging coming from the kitchen downstairs; Tom making tea. No, Tom making tea _angrily_. How very British.  
She knew he'd been annoyed when she'd left the after party to follow Sherlock, but he'd refused to admit it. Tensions had been high all day... In all honesty, tensions had been high since Sherlock had returned. It was all going to bubble over soon, she could feel it. Maybe the wedding would be the straw that broke the camel's back.

"Tom, are you okay?" She asked quietly as she walked into the kitchen. He had his back to her, but she could see the frustration in his posture.  
"I'm sorry I'm not him, Molly" He said, his voice unusually even. Molly closed her eyes tightly, knowing exactly which conversation was coming.  
"I don't know what you-"  
"Yes you do." Tom said loudly, turning to look at her. His face was rigid, hiding whatever he was feeling, "You know exactly what I mean, and you know that what I'm thinking is true. I'm sorry that I'm not Sherlock bloody Holmes, because everyone knows that's who you want, not me"  
"Tom I-"  
"No Molly. Enough. I'm done with this. I'm done being some cheap imitation of the real thing. Do you know how it felt for me at that wedding? Having everyone look at me, pitying me because they know the truth. You need to be with someone else Molly. Because for you, it's him or no one, and that's the way it's always going to be." Tom's voice shook slightly, but he held his ground as he stood with one hand on the counter next to him.  
"Tom I'm so sorry. Please…" Molly whispered, not having the heart to fight him, not wanting to anyway.  
"It's okay Molls. We had something good, just not good enough I guess. I'll have my stuff out in the hour… I'll need the ring back too." He said, not able to look Molly in the eye as she removed the engagement ring from her finger. She hated herself for it, but she almost felt relieved to be rid of it, it never felt right there anyway. Tom took it from her hand and kissed her lightly on the cheek.  
"You look after yourself, Molly Hooper" He whispered before leaving the room to gather his things.

* * *

Molly was sat on her sofa watching Grey's Anatomy when there was a knock on the door. She went to answer it, expecting John or Mary, maybe even Lestrade. What she didn't expect to find was a bloody, beaten Sherlock Holmes.  
"Oh my god Sherlock!" She said in shock as she opened the door fully, allowing him to limp in, "What happened to you?" She whispered  
"I was chasing leads, got into a fight," He said, removing his hand from his collarbone so she could see the gash there, "You should see the other guy"

Molly ushered him through into the kitchen whilst she went to fetch her first aid kit. Luckily, she had her bathroom cabinet as well stocked as a hospital, one of the benefits of working at St Bart's. She returned to find Sherlock who had rid himself of his coat and jacket, his black shirt was half unbuttoned and she could see the bruises already forming. He winced slightly as she used a damp towel to clean the wound near his shoulder and she mumbled an apology, resting a hand on his knee to steady herself.  
"This is going to need stitches" She sighed, looking up at Sherlock who was trying his hardest not to look like he was in pain.  
"You're a Doctor, can't you do them?" He asked through gritted teeth.  
"I'm more used to opening cadavers, not closing wounds" She said, but the pleading look in his eyes won her over. She got an icepack from the freezer for Sherlock to place against his swollen cheek as she went about numbing the area and suturing the wound.

And hour later, Sherlock was lying on Molly's sofa. His wound was stitched and dressed and the swelling on his cheek was already going down. The pathologist brought through two cups of tea, helping Sherlock to sit up before handing one to him.  
"You're sad." Sherlock said plainly, looking at Molly who was sat in an armchair across from the sofa.  
"How do you know that?" She asked, not denying what he had said.  
"The empty mug on the coffee table. Peppermint tea, one spoon of honey. You only drink peppermint tea when you're upset. The mug was here before me, so it can't be my injury which has upset you. Your hair is up, which you usually reserve for work, which means you're feeling tense about something. It could be work, but if it was, you wouldn't be watching a medical drama; you'd want something completely opposite to your job… You're not wearing your engagement ring" He remarked, sounding slightly confused.  
"And you're getting slow" Molly smiled sadly.  
"I put it down to blood loss" Sherlock retorted, although he was smiling slightly. "What happened?"  
"Tom called it off" Molly shrugged, not wanting to divulge the full reasons.  
"Yes I gathered that much, but why?"  
"Why do you care?" Molly asked with no bitterness behind it, just genuine interest.  
"Because you're my friend. And you seem unhappy… I don't like it" Sherlock mumbled. Molly blushed slightly at this, before ducking her head down in embarrassment.  
"He said he thinks I should be with somebody else, that there's someone I want more than him, and he won't be second best" She said, not looking at Sherlock, knowing he'd be reading her like a book.  
"I would say you have my condolences, but then I'd be lying." Sherlock said, placing his mug down on the table, "I can't be anything but happy that you are no longer with Tom."

Molly was holding her breath now, wondering where Sherlock was going with this. "At John's wedding, when you came to find me, you assumed I was distressed because I thought I was losing my best friend, and that may have contributed to my sadness, but Molly, when I told you I was feeling empty, I wasn't because I was losing John. It was because I felt like I was losing _you._" Sherlock said, standing now so he looked down at Molly who was still seated.  
"What do you mean?" Molly asked quietly, rising to her feet, but Sherlock still towered over her.  
"I believe I may have developed what are commonly known as _romantic feelings _for you Molly. I fought them because, well, because that's what I do with emotions. But I couldn't lock them away anymore. I am not one to express sentiment easily Molly, but when I tell you then I felt utterly _heartbroken _at the thought of you with someone else, you can imagine how I felt to return and find you engaged." He spoke eloquently as usual, but there was a vulnerability to his expression which she had never seen before. She took his hand in hers, encouraging him to continue. "I believed I was too late, that I had missed my chance forever, so I locked everything away even deeper than usual. It was only then that I realised how important those feelings were. The halls of my mind felt empty without you there, cold and abandoned. But I convinced myself you were happy with Tom, so I had to let you be happy. I'm not good for you. We both know that, and everyone tells you so. I know I'm… difficult. But you see through all of that. You can see me, Molly Hooper. And I see you too"

Tears were slowly rolling down Molly's face, and Sherlock moved to cup her cheek and wipe them away with his thumb. He leaned in carefully, and brushed his lips softly over hers. Molly moved a hand to the side of his neck, careful not to hurt him in his bruised state. When he pulled away and rested his forehead on hers, Molly couldn't help but smile.  
"So… if you'll have me…" Sherlock whispered hopefully, and Molly nearly began to cry once more, knowing that Sherlock, who scoffed at sentiment, was now laying his heart out for her.  
"Of course I'll have you Sherlock. I've wanted this for so long…" She whispered, her heart pounding against her ribs. Sherlock grinned and brought his lips to hers once more. For the first time in years, Molly Hooper didn't feel invisible. Sherlock Holmes could see her, and that was more than enough.

* * *

_Thanks for reading, if you'd want to leave a comment, it would be really appreciated as this is my first time publishing fanfiction, so i'd love to know what you think!_


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